


A Series of Moving Snapshots

by orphan_account



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-03-08
Packaged: 2018-01-13 13:29:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1228159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The lives of a group of students at Hogwarts through the years. Bucky Barnes and Clint Barton centric, eventual relationship. Will also contain Science Boyfriends and Thundershield</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a group of drabbles I'm doing for a Hogwarts AU when I get bored. Feel free to add scenarios in the comments or message me with them, and I'll probably get to them at some point while I am writing!

Bucky was more or less lost as he walked through Kings Cross. He was dragging a trunk full of second hand robes and books and was wishing he’d convinced his father to come with him. But his dad was busy at the base so the most he’d gotten was a ride from someone from ‘The Ministry of Magic’ or whatever it was called. The man had dropped him off, pointed him in the right direction, and left.

_Steve. Steve. Steve._

The name was a chant in his head. Steve had promised to meet him at Kings Cross and show him the way through his head, but he couldn’t see the skinny guy anywhere and he’d forgotten where they were supposed to meet. With the clock ticking towards eleven he couldn’t wait.

He stopped dead, staring at the columns between platforms nine and ten. _Oh. Magic._

“Shit,” he said, earning a scandalous look from a woman walking by. On a normal day he might have winked at her, but he was too afraid of missing the train to do any such thing.

There was the sound of another trolley approaching and Bucky glanced over to see a blond boy with an _owl_. He was followed by another boy with red hair, also with a big trunk. There was no sign of an owl with him, though.

“Hey – hey!” he said, running to catch up. “Do you know how to get into this thing?”

The blond boy turned and started to open his mouth, but before he could speak the other spoke up for him. “I know. See that barrier? It’s right behind it. Run right at it.”

Bucky turned to stare at it, then looked back, eyebrow raised. “I’ll crash.”

“No,” said the smaller boy. “Watch us.”

With that, and with a glance at who Bucky supposed was the big brother, the blond boy turned and ran towards the barrier. Bucky watched, did his best not to blink lest he missed some kind of spell or enchantment, but –

But he was gone.

“What,” he said, at a loss.

“Better move it, kid,” said the big guy, who also ran towards the barrier. 

Bucky watched him, straining his eyes for a trick, but a group of people passed between him and the boy had disappeared.

“Oh my god,” said Bucky, clutching the trolley tight.

He dithered a moment, about to run but worried about crashing into what looked like a very solid wall, when he finally heard Steve’s voice.

He turned to see his friend, who was about the same height as Bucky but less solidly built. While Bucky was muscle and wire from growing up on the base, Steve was like a leaf about to blow in the wind. It was hard to imagine he wasn’t a first year.

“You’re late,” Bucky accused.

“You’re scared of the barrier,” said Steve. “Come on, I’ll run with you.”

Going through ended up being a lot easier than building the courage. Bucky’s mind was insisting with every step that they were about to crash, he’d held his breath as he gained momentum, squeezed his eyes shut as his palms sweat (even though he wasn’t going to admit this to anyone, certainly not to Steve)… but they never crashed. They just kept… going.

Bucky opened his eyes and his jaw dropped at the sound of steam. He’d never seen a train so red before.

Steve was laughing, gave him a nudge. Bucky looked around at the sudden crowd, a little intimidated.

A month ago a mild mannered man dressed very strangely had come to his family’s home on the base. He'd said his name was Coulson, that he was a professor at a school for the gifted and Bucky had a place in their school since birth.

He didn't know anything about the magical world. Coulson told him he was of non-magic parentage, making him a muggle-born. According to him and wizarding society as a whole, this was completely normal and okay, but he already had a serious complex going on as he stood on an impossible platform staring at a scarlet steam engine calling itself the Hogwarts Express. Kids were hugging their mums and dads, and Bucky was a little green with envy as he watched. At least he had Steve, though, who’d been his friend all through primary school.

He glanced at a group of people holding a hushed conversation nearby out of reflex - usually at school, when people whispered it was either about him, or about someone who was going to get beaten up. Bucky was no fan of bullies, no matter who they were.

"The son of Howard Stark, the famous warlock? He's coming to Hogwarts?"

"He's _here?"_

"Ohmigosh!"

"What's his name?"

"What's he look like? Is he cute?"

"He's _eleven_ you sot."

Steve pulled on his arm and Bucky shook his head, moving away from the group of girls. It wasn’t important, just some fancy rich guy coming to school. Whoop-de-doo.

Bucky, trying to flex his muscles, dragged his trunk into the train. A few of the girls glanced at him and these he winked at. One or two blushed, another rolled her eyes. He grinned.

Glancing back out at the platform he could see Steve struggling with his trunk. Before he could jump down to help, though, a towering blond boy with long hair approached. If Bucky hadn't known better he'd say the boy was a Viking - he was muscular and very tall for his age.

“Here, Steve, let me help you with that,” he said, and hefted up the trunk as Steve stammered his thanks and blushed a fascinating red.

The boy looked at Bucky and smiled. "Are you going into your first year?" they asked as he stepped back.

Bucky nodded.

"I'm Thor Odinson. Third year, but everyone thinks I'm really in my fifth or sixth," he grinned, holding out his hand.

"Um... James Barnes, but you can call me Bucky," he replied, shaking his hand. His hand was lost in Thor’s.

"My brother starts this year too! His name is Loki. He's with our mother, but I'm sure you'll meet him soon. If you'll excuse me!" The mammoth boy turned and walked away, whistling.

Steve climbed into the train. Bucky nudged him. “You got a crush on him or what?”

“Shut up, Buck,” said Steve, still red in the face.

Bucky grinned. This was going to be like old times.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Clint was a little afraid of the sorting, he had to admit. Barney had told him all kinds of horror stories, and how there was this big test you had to answer verbally in front of the entire school when you were sorted. He had no one else to ask, either, considering the two of them grew up in an orphanage, so all he had was his brother’s word.

He travelled with Barney, who was in his fourth year, and felt intimidated the entire six hour ride on the Hogwarts Express by all of Barney’s friends. He might have liked to go find someone his own age but he didn’t dare move or draw attention to himself just yet, not when he was around Barney’s mates.

After the ride over the silent lake, though, he was feeling more confident around his fellow first years. He shared a boat with a tiny curly haired kid and the smart ass that Clint was fairly sure could be no one but Tony Stark, the son of the famous warlock. A girl, a redhead, also sat in their boat. He’d heard Stark call her Pepper, and she seemed pretty at ease with all of Stark’s eccentricities.

He looked around the assortment of faces as they waited in a small chamber. Stark was to his right, talking a mile a minute. Clint ignored him, and instead found the face of the boy he’d tried to help that morning through the barrier. He was standing apart from the group trying to look cool. It made Clint smile.

Also nearby was a diminutive boy even smaller than Bruce, with long black hair and a very pale face. Another girl with long, wild brown hair stood beside him, twisting her hands. These were the only two that didn't hiss and point at Tony Stark, and he wondered if they were muggle-born.

They were lead into the Great Hall by a balding wizard wearing black robes and looking almost like a muggle businessman. Despite Clint's knowledge beforehand, the ceiling still knocked the breath out of him. Above, inky black and dotted with stars, the night sky was the ceiling. His jaw dropped and he craned his neck, looked awestruck at the thousands of floating candles and hundreds of students, many of whom were standing on their chairs, a few waving.

A tall blond boy standing at the Gryffindor table yelled "HAIL, Loki!" and waved. The tiny black haired boy blushed very red as Thor and his friends, all of whom sat at the Gryffindor table, waved. Bruce couldn't see any family resemblance and marvelled at their differences.

The wizard stopped and turned towards the group. Behind him a shabby old hat sat on a stool. Clint raised an eyebrow, wondering what the manky thing could be doing in such a grand hall.

After a moment a mouth split in the brim of the hat, thready and old, but completely natural, and in a husky, powerful voice, the hat began to sing:

 

_"Hello, Hello,_

_And welcome, all,_

_To the Hogwarts dining hall!_

_I may not look like much,_

_But there's no wiser hat than me._

_I can see into your head,_

_And tell you where you ought to be!_

_So pop me on your crown,_

_And I'll peek in your mind._

_I'll see your strengths and pick your spot,_

_So don't get in a bind!_

_You might be brave and strong,_

_With fire at your heart!_

_And it is in Griffindor ,_

_That you will boldly make your start!_

_Or perhaps you are noble,_

_And generosity proves your worth._

_Then you shall be a Hufflepuff,_

_A child of the earth._

_Mayhap you are cunning,_

_Ambitious and full of pride._

_So shall you be a Slytherin,_

_As steadfast as the tide._

_Perchance you are inventive,_

_And full of intuition._

_Your home will be in Ravenclaw,_

_Where students of the zephyr follow wisdom's mission._

_And now you may feel timid,_

_We all do at the start,_

_But trust me and trust yourself,_

_For it's my job to tell you all apart!"_

 

While the Sorting Hat sang the students listened raptly, and broke into applause at the end, while the tip of the raggedy hat dipped in a bow before it went still. Then the professor produced a scroll from within his robes and stood next to the stool, facing the school.

"Aurum, Gaia!" he called.

A blond girl stepped up to the hat and put it on her head. It paused a moment, then shouted,  _"HUFFLEPUFF!"_

There was a rising cheer from one of the house tables, which was draped with yellow and black colours. Clint swallowed, imagining going up to put the hat on his head and tripping on the stairs.

Just before him the curly haired boy he’d shared a boat with was called. “Banner, Bruce!” The small boy tripped on his way up the stairs, looked mortified behind his giant glasses, and sat up on the stool. Moments after the hat was placed on his head, the hat yelled,  _“RAVENCLAW!”_ and the entire table of blue and copper erupted in a cheer.

“Barnes, James!”

Clint watched as the boy he’d helped climbed the stairs and looked at the Hufflepuff table, and smiled and nodded at someone there. Clint looked, but he couldn’t see anyone in particular. The hat went on his head, there was a few moments of silence… _“GRYFFINDOR!”_

The Gryffindor table cheered and banged their feet. Clint watched as Barnes gave a funny look back at the Hufflepuff table, shrugged, and ran to go sit with the Gryffindors. The big blond guy who shouted pat him on the back.

The next name to be called was his own, and Clint’s stomach dropped. At least it was a simple test, but he still had to be stared at by the entire school.

He stepped up, earned a smile from the professor. Clint swallowed and sat down, feeling small and worried. The hat went over his head, a soft worn leather with an old musky scent. All at once there was a voice in his ear and he sat up straight in surprise.

 _Well hello there,_ it said.

 _Hi,_ Clint thought back, blinking in the darkness of the hat and clutching his robes.

_You’ve got a lot of good traits, it said. Let’s see… you’re bright, have a knack for escaping… a certain disregard for rules I think. Hard working._

Clint just swallowed, he had no thoughts to offer.

_Courage, though, is a very bright thread that weaves you together. I think you should be… “GRYFFINDOR!”_

The hat was lifted from his head and Clint whooped as Barney stood up on his chair and pounded his fists in the air. Clint hopped off the stool and ran for his brother, sat next to him at the table, shaking and out of breath.

Barnes smiled at him. Clint smiled back and nodded, and let himself be enveloped in a hug by his brother as the next to be sorted began to run up towards the hat.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Bucky knew his dad would be pissed if he found out that he was starting fist fights in a school for magic, but he wasn’t about to let this stop him as his fist collided with his fellow Gryffindor’s face. He was eleven but had the reputation of being as strong as a boy much older than he was.

Someone had made the mistake of picking on Steve, or at least rising to Steve’s bait. Sometimes Bucky was pretty sure Steve loved to get punched, but it never seemed to stop him. Bucky, of course, hadn’t been able to stop himself after the first blow landed and he ignored Steve’s yells for him to cut it out.

“Get off of him!” Someone yanked Bucky back by the collar and he turned in time to see one of the bigger fourth years glowering at him.

“Get your hands off me, you big ape,” he snarled, and brought his fist around in a sharp punch.

Things might have gotten even worse if that hadn’t been when Professor Hill stepped in. All of the boys found themselves thrown on their backs with a flick. Bucky groaned, hitting the ground hard.

“What’s going on here?” she asked, stepping among them and pointing her wand.

The guy Bucky had been beating up sat up. “This guy just attacked me out of _no where_ and -”

“Did not, ya creep!” Bucky sat up, fists balled. “You hit Steve!”

“Silence!” They all fell quiet. Professor Hill had that effect on people. “You. Rogers. Explain.”

Steve, sporting a cut lip, stood up at attention. “I got into a fight with Smith. Bucky stepped in, and then him.”

She nodded. “The rest of you - up. Fighting amongst your own house is a disgrace. 90 points from Gryffindor. 30 from Hufflepuff. And a week’s worth of detention - for all of you.”

Bucky stood up, wiping away blood. The fourth year was fine, despite a probable bruise. Bucky and Smith, however, were worse for wear. Bucky was pretty sure he’d broken the others nose, and blood was dribbling down his own lips.

Hill glanced them over and shook her head, expression unchanging. “Go to the infirmary. You’ll all report to me tomorrow at six pm.”

The fourth year muttered something and went off in a different direction. Glowering at Smith, Bucky fell into step with Steve. As if on a cue, as well, Steve started in on him for intercepting in the fight, and didn’t stop until they were on Madam Pomfrey’s doorstep awaiting her lectures as well.

With a tisk, she swept them each to their own bed to await attention. Bucky was glowering, kicking the bedside table, when he heard a shuffle in the bed next to him and the curtain was pulled back to reveal Clint Barton.

“What the heck happened to you?” he demanded, tilting his head.

Bucky humphed. “Someone messed with the wrong person,” he said simply. “You can’t pick on a guy because he’s weaker.”

“Good,” said Clint.

“What are you in here for?” asked Bucky after a minute. Outwardly Clint looked fine.

“I hexed Loki Odinson for being a jerk to Korina Campbell for having a big crush on his brother, and he hexed me back with boils.”

Bucky frowned. “I don’t see any-”

“There’s a reason I’m standing.”

Bucky cracked up, speckling blood from his lips and Clint stepped back, also laughing.

“Yeah it’s a pain in the arse,” he said, and Bucky doubled over, sniggering uncontrollably.

Madam Pomfrey chose that moment to appear, heels clicking ominously. Bucky grinned at Clint under her arm.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Bonding in the hospital wing became bonding over detention. It seemed Clint had lost Gryffindor 10 points and a detention for hexing Loki, so together they’d both had to go through a terrifying amount of old files from older teachers, sorting by teacher and then by year, on old test subjects. By the end of it they were friends, which relieved Clint.

By the end of first year they had a group of friends that included Steve, Thor, Bruce Banner and by extension Tony Stark and Pepper Potts.

A sort of schedule set in. Once or twice a week one or most of them would find themselves in trouble. There was usually a detention to go to as well, and often in pairs. Bucky found himself either in detention with Clint or with Steve who was always guilty by association. At least Bucky, though, was more or less adept at earning points back with his unusual talent in Defense Against the Dark Arts. For punishment Steve usually made both Clint and Bucky study for two hours in the library, which Clint complained was like a double punishment.

Sometimes Darcy Lewis, a Ravenclaw muggle-born in their year, would join them. She shared in Clint and Bucky’s affinity for infuriating the caretaker, may the great Washroom Fire of October live on in infamy. He liked her company, because it was nice to know someone who was as oft times clueless as he was for magic customs and social cues. The troupe (and this annoyed Bruce and Steve, because they wanted very little to do with their mischief) were quickly becoming known as the school pranksters, and usually Mrs. Lynde the caretakers enormous cat would stalk them in the corridors whenever she could.

One day in late November found their mix-matched group of friends studying together. Or, at least, a few studied while the rest slacked off. Tony was talking to Clint about a recent game in the National Quidditch League, Darcy was pouring over her limited edition pack of exploding snap cards, Thor was making several paper cranes careen and chase each other about the ceiling while Bucky attempted to shoot them down, and Pepper, Steve and Bruce did their homework.

"Exploding snap?" asked Darcy, shuffling her deck.

Clint was about to jump down from the stone ledge where he was sitting when Bruce fixed him with a glare. "Professor Fury said he'd skin you if you failed to hand in another essay," said Bruce.

Clint stared at Bruce with eyes that suggested life was a tragedy. “You're a slave driver."

Bruce ignored him and flicked a bit of paper at Tony before he could join Darcy as well. “You too, Tony. I know for a fact you’re ignoring your essays and resting on your test scores.”

Tony sighed theatrically and threw himself onto Bruce's bench. Unmindful of Bruce's personal space, he slumped an arm over him and looked up at him with morose, puppy-dog eyes. "Bruce Banner, you’ll make a wonderful Prefect one day.”

Bruce ignored him and gave him a nudge in the ribs with his elbow. Tony pulled his notes towards himself, grumbling, while Pepper smiled.

"Someone has to ensure you pass," said Pepper serenely. She was the only one who would dare suggest Tony wasn't some kind of genius.

"I'll play you," said Thor, abandoning his cranes with a wave of his wand. They turned and dive bombed Bucky’s head.

Clint helped him stop the papery onslaught, and stuffed the wiggling paper cranes into Thor’s bag. He glanced at Bruce. “You could help, you know.”

Bruce rolled his eyes and handed Clint his DADA notes and continued writing. Clint shuffled closer to the studiers, specifically the fire that was burning in a nearby grate. The corridors and studying rooms had gotten icy as the weather turned cold, and because of the various houses which they all belonged to it was difficult to find a place for them all to gather. Sometimes Clint wished that they could have Steve, Darcy, Pepper and Tony could come by to their nice toasty room, but the other Gryffindors would pitch a fit, and so far Tony hadn't managed to procure an invisibility cloak like he'd been attempting to get from his father. He figured most of the problem lay with Tony and his green and silver colours.

"Soooo," said Bucky, joining Clint. "You going home for Christmas? 'Cause my dad's going to be abroad.”

Clint shrugged. “I don’t know.” It was just the orphanage to go to, and Barney hadn’t said one way or the other if they were going home or not.

“Well, it’d be cool if you stayed,” he said, quill scratching along his parchment. “It would liven up the tower for sure…”

Clint smiled. “Okay. I’ll tell Barney I want to stay.”

“Awesome,” said Bucky, looking up at Clint and smiling.

There was a bang as one of the cards exploded on Darcy's side of the board and Thor pounded the air in victory while Darcy picked scraps of cards from her hair.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Bucky was getting fairly used to 'magic-isms' as Darcy was fond of calling them. He thought he had most down pretty much pat until his second year, around the time Easter came along.

The school wasn't nearly as empty as it had been at Christmas, but was still mostly devoid of life below fifth year, and much of whomever was left above third year was in Hogsmede for the day. At the very heels of the break he learned a new, rather darker 'ism' which pervaded magical society.

Bucky was walking along the corridor with Clint when Loki, along with a Ravenclaw whose name Bucky didn’t know and a girl named Dionisa Prewett, passed them. Bucky didn’t much care for Loki ever since Loki and Clint had begun to make a game out of ‘who can hex more than who’ but at the moment he was willing to let bygones be bygones.

As they passed Bucky happened to glance down and noticed a splitting seam along Loki’s book bag. He might have spoken up if he’d cared anything about the jerk, but he kept his mouth shut. About a moment later, though, the seam split completely and his books fell out in a rustle of paper and the crash of an ink jar.

Dionisa said something that made the Ravenclaw laugh, and Loki whirled to look at Clint and Bucky. “You two!” he snapped. “One of you did this.”

Clint was laughing and Bucky shook his head. “Cool your jets, Odinson. Neither of us did anything.”

Loki sneered. “Right, like I’d believe a mudblood like you.”

Clint made a sound of outrage and Bucky knew he’d just been called something pretty filthy, though he didn’t know what exactly. He balled his fists, though, and was ready to grab Loki by the collar of his robes. “What did you say?”

Loki sneered. “I can tell by the look on your face you don’t actually know. Not uncommon for you and your kind, Barnes.”

Clint drew his wand. “You’re not going to be able to see for a week, Loki,” he growled.

The opposing three drew their wands, but before Bucky could join Clint and back them up there was a loud bang! and everyone carrying a wand was thrown down. Teachers like to use that way too much, thought Bucky, leaning down to help up Clint.

Coulson, the professor that had come to get him, was walking towards the five of them along with Professor Fury, the one teacher Bucky feared pissing off. He looked sinister with his eyepatch, and the big rumour was that he’d lost it in a fight with a Cerberus.

“Sixty points from Slytherin and twenty from Gryffindor!” he said, his black robes swishing as he advanced, wand raised. Coulson followed him, looking grave. “And you can damn well bet I’ll be talking to the Slytherin head of house about this!”

Coulson was head of Gryffindor house, and he folded his arms, eyes narrowed. “Always you two, isn’t it.”

“We had a good excuse this time, sir-” Clint began, but Coulson shook his head.

“There always is with you two. I’ll be writing to your guardians.”

Clint sighed and Bucky winced, imagining what his dad was going to say when he found out about more fights at school. He was just lucky his dad was a muggle and couldn’t write howlers.

“As for the rest of you,” said Fury, turning to look at them, “get lost.”

Bucky and Clint turned and went off in the opposite direction, their feet carrying them back to the common room. Bucky was still confused, though. He had no idea what had been said to him at all.

“So… what does mudblood mean?” he asked, when they were alone in a hallway.

Clint stopped and Bucky turned to look at him. Clint was frowning. “It’s a really nasty insult,” said Clint.

“Gathered that. What does it mean though?”

Clint sighed. “It means ‘dirty blood.’ Loki thinks he's better than you because he's pure blood. It's disgusting."

"Pure... oh. Because I'm muggle-born? People actually care about that.”

“No. Not the good ones, anyway. Harry Potter fought Voldemort and kicked his ass and a lot of that put a stop to that nonsense… but a lot of bad wizards are still on the loose. Always are. And some of them think that pure blood is the way to be. I don’t remember much from when the Death Eaters were in power, but I guess they rounded up muggle borns, hurt a lot of people.”

They hadn’t covered that in History of Magic yet, and Bucky felt uncomfortable. “So people like Loki still believe that shit, or do a lot…?” He started wondering how many people in Gryffindor and in Hufflepuff that he liked felt this way.

“Just people like Loki. He’s a shit. Gives Slytherin’s a bad name. I mean, look at Tony. He doesn’t care. I mean, he’s a total ass, but he doesn’t care.”

Bucky laughed. “Tony Stark is a total ass.”

“But yeah. Don’t worry. It’s not the world at large, just a few jerks.”

“Good,” said Bucky. “I was starting to wonder how many people I’d have to beat up.”


	6. Chapter 6

_Hogsmede._ Bucky could practically taste the word. After two years of Thor and Steve bringing back sweets for all of them he was finally getting to go, on the condition from his father that he stop fights at school. Bucky wasn’t sure he could guarantee that with slime like Loki wandering around but he’d do his best to try. Clint had no such restrictions other than Barney, who was now a sixth year, and Barney seemed to encourage Clint to get into fights when necessary. Bucky wasn’t about to let his best mate go up against someone alone.

He’d also received a letter that Becky had made the neighbors cat fly, so he was in a pretty good mood all things considered.

“This is so great,” said Clint, as they walked together towards the village, leaves crackling underfoot as the walked. They were alone from the group, since Tony and Pepper had decided to go alone and Bruce, in a huff, had decided to go with Darcy. Thor and Steve were too busy dealing with all the homework from their OWL year.

“It really is,” said Bucky. “Dad exchanged some extra money for me. I can’t wait to get into Honeydukes. Steve gave me money to bring him back some candy and a bottle of butterbeer.”

“Mmh all the _fudge!_ And Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes!” Clint looked positively gleeful. “I’m sure I can find some amazing prank stuff to use on Loki… well, provided Thor doesn’t find out.” Thor didn’t mind the fighting when Loki deserved it, anyway. It was rare when he didn’t.

The day passed in a haze and Bucky loved every second of it. He liked being with Steve, but there was something about hanging out with Clint that made everything seem different. Honeydukes was the stuff of dreams, Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes made his pockets considerably lighter. They were loaded down with candy and fireworks and everything else that seemed like it could be worth bringing back to the common room.

They were approaching the Three Broomsticks for a butterbeer when Bucky spotted Tony and Pepper. They were walking together towards the little pub, which seemed from the outside like it was going to be packed with students already. He nudged Clint, about to call out to them, when someone grabbed the back of his robes.

“Hey, don’t go in there!” He turned to see Darcy glaring at him from behind her glasses, bushy hair overflowing from under a knit cap. Bruce was just behind her, looking sour and a bit worn out, with bags under his eyes.

“Why the hell not?” asked Clint. “We were just going to go say hi to Tony and Pepper, and -”

“Don’t tell me you two don’t _know,”_ said Darcy, tutting impatiently.

“Apparently we don’t,” said Bucky, annoyed. “What’s got you all in a twist?”

Darcy rolled her eyes. “They’re on a _date,_ duhhh.”

Bucky straightened up and looked back in time to see Pepper and Tony disappear into the pub. It seemed strange, the two of them going off on a date together. Like they weren’t eleven and on the train to Hogwarts anymore, they were… older. And it struck Bucky as not being fair.

“Wow,” he said, and Clint shifted agitatedly.

“Well I want a butterbeer,” said Clint, like a petty date wasn’t going to get in the way of his good time.

Darcy rolled her eyes. “There’s a stand selling them over there. Leave them alone.”

“But that place is huge, and-”

“Please,” said Bruce in a tired voice.

Clint and Bucky shared a look. He glanced back at Darcy and Bruce. “Are you two on a date?” asked Clint, tilting his head.

Bruce sighed, kicked a rock, and Darcy gave him a sympathetic look before turning back to them. “You two are clueless, aren’t you?”

“Apparently. And if you’re going to be cryptic, well,” Bucky sighed, tugging on Clint’s robes, “tell us later when you Ravenclaw’s are over it.”

Bruce rolled his eyes. “We’re going to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, do you want to come?”

Clint shook his head. “Already been there. Don’t worry about it, we’re gonna head to the Shrieking Shack, see what’s out there. How’s that sound?”

Bucky nodded. The Shrieking Shack was high on his list of things to see before they went back, and it sounded preferable to going back to the joke shop. “We’ll see you guys later,” he said.

Bruce sighed. “See you.”

After buying a few bottles of butterbeer and an extra for Steve they headed out of the village and up a muddy path towards the woods that arched close to the castle. Hogwarts stood imperiously off in the distance as the Forbidden Forest encroached around the tall walls of Hogsmede, looking perilous as always. Bucky had only been inside a few times in his Care of Magical Creatures class. Professor Grubbly-Plank didn’t like taking anyone in until fourth year unless a class specifically required it.

They were alone as they climbed the rocky path and almost out of breath as they reached the fence to the desolate looking home on the hill. Boarded up windows were like patched up eyes staring at them through the afternoon light.

“Looks haunted,” said Clint, getting up on the boarded up fence.

Bucky glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “Looks like a manky old house if you ask me. Hasn’t it been silent for years?”

“Years and years,” said Clint. “Locals are still spooked of it. Let it be.” He pat the spot on the fence next to him. “Don’t be a chicken and just climb up.”

Bucky set his bags down and scrambled up so he was perched uncomfortably on the fence as well, swinging his legs and staring out at the house. Their breath frosted in the air as they watched, the sun starting to slant down in the west. They’d have to go back soon.

“Here,” said Clint, and he handed Bucky a bottle of the butterbeer. The crack and hiss of the bottle was loud in the silence, and they drank together, just staring.

“So Pepper and Tony, huh?” asked Bucky.

Clint shrugged. “Bruce looks jealous.”

Bucky glanced at him. “You think he likes Pepper too?”

Clint just smiled like he knew a secret Bucky didn’t and shook his head. “You’re a dumbass.”

“So’re you.”

Clint held up his bottle. The necks clinked together in a toast and they both drained them.

“Anyone you like?” asked Clint after a long moment.

“No,” said Bucky. “I’ve got everything I want, why complicate it with a dame?”

Clint grinned. “Hear, hear.”

“Anyone you like?” asked Bucky. Clint had never mentioned any girls before, but now it made him wonder… and for some reason, he didn’t like the idea of Clint going off and kissing some girl and leaving him behind in his dust.

“Nope,” said Clint, popping the ‘p.’ “I’ve got everything I want too.”

They left shortly after, and Bucky wasn’t sure why, but he felt warm every time they brushed hands and shoulders on the way back, happy he wasn’t about to lose his best friend any time soon.


	7. Chapter 7

Defense Against the Dark Arts started off with what was supposed to be a bang after the Christmas Break. All of the students watched, interested and excited, as Professor Coulson levitated in a giant trunk covered with latches. It wobbled in mid-air when the students murmured in curiosity.

“Today,” said Professor Coulson, setting down the trunk with a swish of his wand, “will be a practical. Wands out, books away, get up from your desks.”

Bucky glanced at Clint excitedly. Practical classes were always the best. He wondered what kind of monster it would be as they stood up.

With a practiced flick, Coulson sent all of the desks flying to the sides of the room to stack and leave a wide path down the middle, leaving students standing about and clutching their wands. Bucky was already ready for it, wondering which spells he’d need. Defense Against the Dark Arts was easily his best subject.

“Now,” said Coulson, “for most children, the monster under the bed is a common nightmare. Or maybe it’s in your closet, or in your wardrobe. Little do most know that this is a real monster. Can anyone tell me what it’s called?”

To no one’s surprise, Tony put up his hand.

“Stark?”

“A Boggart,” said Tony, sounding bored. “It’s a creature which can read a person’s mind and reflect the fear within it.”

Bucky frowned, glancing at the trunk.

“Excellent. Take five points for Slytherin,” said Coulson. “Now, boggarts are relatively harmless, and by this I mean they rarely get physical and instead prefer to resort to psychological methods in order to frighten you. Banishing them is easy, though. It’s a simple charm that requires force of thought.”

Bucky repeated the charm as it was mentioned, but he was distracted. At first it was trying to figure out what frightened him the most, but he noticed Clint had gone strangely immobile. Gone was the cocky, excited smile and instead it was replaced with a look of terror that didn’t suit him.

“Hey,” he nudged Clint, talking in a whisper, “you okay?”

Clint nodded. “Um. Yeah. I’ll be fine. Just trying to think of how to make something funny rather than scary.”

Bucky nodded. He wondered what scared him the most. All around him he could hear people muttering about werewolves or spiders, but Bucky didn’t think any of those things were remotely frightening. He tried to think of what really scared him, what his nightmares were made of, and nothing came to him… until he thought of his dad. Or rather, not his dad, but of his CO coming to the door with a flag and some medals.

 _Oh_ , he thought, his throat closing. He had no idea how to make that funny, there was nothing funny about it.

“Line up, please!” called Coulson.

“Let’s go in the back,” muttered Tony from behind them, and Bucky for once was eager to agree with Stark.

Clint stood before him, still white faced and terrified as the students went, one by one, through each boggart. Some of them became actually terrifying creatures that even made Bucky’s heart stutter a bit, but not a one scared him more than imagining his dad dying, the news coming.

“Barton, you’re next,” said Professor Coulson, and Clint swallowed very hard and nodded.

Clint walked up in front of the trunk, wand at the ready. Bucky was wondering what could possibly be so frightening to a guy who was so brave when the trunk flew open and a blond man stepped out.

What? A surge of whispers ran around the room, but Clint trembled.

“Clinton?” demanded the man, his swagger aggressive. He was dressed in muggle clothing and carrying a beer bottle, and advancing fast. Bucky didn’t understand, not at first, but his hair was the same, and his eyes...

“What have I told you? What have I always told you?”

“M’sorry,” said Clint, raising his wand. “R- _ridikkulus.”_

Nothing happened, though. The man laughed, the sound cruel, as he grabbed Clint’s arm. “That’s right. You’re a squib, a filthy squib. No one to care. You’ll be left behind again. You’re worthless, you’re shit, you’re-”

Bucky broke the line, unwilling to stay still a moment longer and swung his wand. Rather than casting the right charm he hit him with a hex to make the boggart shake, dropping Clint’s arm.

He ran to Clint’s side as Coulson waved his wand, looking grave. There was a loud crash from behind him but Bucky didn’t see what happened as he he gently touched Clint’s arms.

“Hey - hey! You okay?” Clint was pale, shaking, sweat on his temples. It killed Bucky to see him so scared. He turned to look at the Professor. “I’m taking him to the hospital wing.”

“Do it. The rest of you hold the line,” instructed Coulson.

Without waiting for another word Bucky took Clint to the door.

“I’ll get your bags!” called Tony, as the door swung shut behind them.

Bucky took Clint’s hand, squeezing his cold and clammy palm. “Do you want to go to the hospital wing or the common room?”

“Our room,” said Clint faintly, his face now red. He looked miserable.

The walk through the castle was quick without the crowds. Everyone was in class, leaving them free and clear, pardoning Mrs. Lynde the cat, who Bucky encouraged to leave with a few choice words.

The Fat Lady was chatting with another portrait when they approached and she gave them a sharp look. “And why exactly are you out of class?”

 _“Preposterous,”_ he said, in no mood to talk.

The Fat Lady humphed and with a ripple of pink silk she swung open to reveal the doorway.

There were a few students in the Common Room but they paid the two of them no mind as they crossed and climbed the stairs to their dorm room.

Their room was near the top, with a sign that said Third Years - A to G in scrawling print. Bucky let them in and Clint walked straight to his four poster bed and collapsed on it, face down into the pillows.

Bucky turned to the door and muttered _‘colloportus,’_ at the door, making it click. The others would be able to unlock it when they got back, but at least he and Clint would have some warning first. Without waiting for an invitation Bucky pulled his feet from his trainers and pulled Clint’s off for him, thinking of what his dad might say if he saw them with shoes in bed.

“Budge up,” he said, not expecting a reaction, but a moment later Clint wiggled aside.

Bucky lay down next to him, head on his arm, and stared. Clint did nothing for a few moments, just breathed, then turned to look at Bucky with tear streaked eyes. When had he started crying?

“Hey, man, it’s okay,” said Bucky, sitting up. He didn’t know what to do, hardly knew what to do when his sister cried.

“No it isn’t. I just humiliated myself in front of the entire class,” said Clint, rolling on his back. “Once Barney finds out I’ll never live it down.”

Bucky picked at the bedsheet a moment. “I don’t think he will. I mean… was that your dad?”

Clint nodded and sighed. “Yeah. Nice guy, huh?”

Bucky didn’t reply. He just waited, because any words he had probably wouldn’t be good enough, not for this.

“My dad was a squib,” said Clint after a moment, sitting up. He wiped at his eyes.

 _Squib?_ Bucky had only heard the word in passing and he’d never asked before. Clint must have seen the confusion on his face so he sighed and smiled. “A squib is a person without magic born from magical parents.”

“Oh… so your dad was basically a muggle.”

“Basically. He grew up not being good enough for anyone. He had to live like a muggle when he got older. It made him bitter. The Barton’s did their best to support him but he was angry all the time. Married mum, had us. Barney and I both showed magic young and that…”

He blinked and wiped at his eyes again. “It was bad.”

Bucky squeezed his knee. “I’m sorry.”

Clint shrugged. “I still have Barney, though. The only reason we weren’t taken in by the Barton’s was because of the Second War. Most of them were killed or too poor to take us in, so we went to a magical orphanage.”

“What happened to your dad?”

“Car accident,” said Clint, his tone blunt. “Him and mum.”

There was a rattle on the door but Bucky ignored it. “Anything I can do?”

Clint shook his head and smiled shyly at Bucky. “Nah. Just don’t tell anyone, okay?”

Bucky nodded and squeezed Clint’s knee again. “Okay, I promise.”


	8. Chapter 8

Noon hour detentions were the worst, Clint was sure. It meant a rushed meal and saying good-bye to Bucky and pick up Bruce, who’d fallen victim to Clint’s machinations the previous day. They’d climbed the stairs while Clint heard Bruce list off all the ways he hated both Clint and Tony, and how he was going to miss Charms Club.

Clint arrived in the nick of time to the North Tower where Clint and Bucky shared Divination. He looked around for him, stepping up on his tip toes and expecting to see his friend but Bucky was nowhere to be seen, and the ladder hadn’t yet descended from Professor Trelawny’s room.

“Hey,” Clint nudged a nearby Gryffindor, Korina Campbell. “Did you see Bucky at lunch?”

She shook her head. “No. He got an owl and I didn’t see him after that. Sorry, Clint.”

Clint frowned, wanting to run off. He glanced at his watch, but the class was due to start in a minute. As if on cue, the trap door creaked open and descended.

“Did he seem distressed?” he asked her, but Korina shrugged again.

“Sorry, Clint. I don’t know.”

“Damn,” he muttered under his breath.

“Are you going after him?” she asked, edging towards the ladder. “We’ve got a test today.”

Not wanting to leave Bucky alone from whatever it was that had happened he struggled. He wanted to be there for his friend, wanted to make sure he was okay just like Bucky had with his boggart. But chances were if Bucky was skipping class he wanted to be alone anyway. With a soft sigh and a reluctant step, he followed his classmates up the ladder and into the loft.

++

The second he was able to Clint had all his books in his bag and was flying down the ladder before anyone could say anything to him. Running in the halls wasn’t allowed, but Clint didn’t care, and he ignored all of the main paths in favour of the secret passages he knew, weaving through tapestries and popping out of doors pretending to be walls until he finally came up to the Fat Lady’s portrait and told her the password.

“You’ll be late for your next class,” she said, swinging open to admit him. He ignored her, though. They had Charms with the Ravenclaw’s so Bruce’s notes would come in handy. He’d just have to find a way to keep ancient and tiny Professor Flitwick from giving him detention.

Thor looked up from his books. “Are you alright, Clint?”

“No time to talk,” he shouted back, taking the stairs two at a time until he reached their room and shouldered it open.

He was about to demand what was the matter when he saw Bucky sitting on the window ledge. It was open and just that sight made Clint’s heart beat a little too fast.

“Buck?” he managed after a moment.

Bucky didn’t reply, just sagged a little against the window frame. Clint shut the door behind him gently, dropping his book bag on the ground, and walked over. He was afraid to touch him, so he just reached past him and shut the window. The sounds of the forest disappeared, the fresh air stopped, returning it to the smell of linen and wood.

Bucky was clutching something in his hands. There were two letters crumpled up in front of him, and his eyes were red rimmed, matching the cut on his cheek from when he and Loki had gone toe to toe once again.

Clint’s hand was shaking, he burned with curiosity, but all he did was gently touch Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky flinched but didn’t throw him off, merely pressed his fist to his lips and made a soft sound and sniffed.

After a moment Bucky put his hand down and he turned to look at Clint, looking like he very much wanted to cry but was unable to. “I have to go home,” he said, voice hoarse. “Not forever. Just… for a little while.”

Clint frowned. “Why?”

“My dad,” said Bucky, and he sniffed again, rubbed furiously at his eyes.

Clint knew it had to be different from the disappointed letter he’d gotten from his dad a few days ago, telling him that he was sick of getting written from Professor Coulson about his fights.

“What happened?”

“An accident.” Bucky looked back at the window. “He didn’t… there was an accident on the base, and he didn’t make it.”

Clint felt his heart stop a moment. He remembered Jim from when he’d visited Bucky and Steve over the last summer. He’d liked the man, he’d been tall and proud and fair. “Oh, Bucky, I-“

 _“Don’t,”_ said Bucky, sucking in a breath. “Don’t say you’re sorry.”

“Okay,” he said, wondering what _to_ say.

“Just… just stand here with me. Help me think. I’ve gotta go home soon – see sis, go to the funeral. No one knows what I do here, it’s a complete secret from everyone but I gotta go home. And then… and sis, she’s magic and everything and she’s all alone and… and I dunno if they’re gonna keep her in England. Dad’s American, she might go stay in America. I…”

Bucky choked then, hiding his face. Clint could see the glint of dog tags in his hands and his heart was breaking. He remembered how hard it was to admit his own past to Bucky and it was nothing in the face of this. He remembered losing his mum and dad and knew the pain it brought, even when he hated his dad to his core. Hated that even now he haunted his memories.

 “Do you want to see Steve?” he asked, a little timid.

“I wrote to him,” said Bucky, “when my hands weren’t shaking. I… I’m afraid to see him though. Like it’ll drive it all home.”

Clint nodded. “We can stand here all day if we have to,” he said.

“Thanks.” Bucky’s voice was watery. Bucky reached up and clutched at his shirt, tugging on it, squeezing tight.

“Does anyone else know?”

“No,” Bucky whispered. “But I… I’ve gotta tell Coulson, or, or the headmistress, or… or someone. I’ve gotta go home, Clint.”

Clint nodded. “You just can’t, yet?”

Bucky nodded.

He pulled Bucky into a hug and pressed his nose into his hair. He hoped that something – anything – would help. All he could do though is offer his presence, offer a shoulder to cry on. He closed his eyes, breathing in Bucky’s scent, and wished it was enough.


	9. Chapter 9

Clint was deeply asleep, dreaming about charms class, which they shared with the Ravenclaw's. Darcy was making a hat tap dance on his head, and no matter how hard he tried he could not remove the offending garment... Bucky was flying around the rafters, laughing, tapping on the window with his wand... tapping... tapping...

Clint groaned, throwing an arm over his face. He wasn’t used to sleeping in this new flat yet. Barney had only just gotten it with the leftovers of the Barton family fortune and was attempting to find a job in Diagon Alley to continue to pay for it. Clint was used to sleeping in an area full of sleeping boys without privacy, not his own small bed in his own tiny bedroom.

He rolled on the lumpy mattress, trying to get comfortable, and looked about. It was just off the living room with blue painted walls that was chipped in some places and had old wood molding around the windows. His trunk was open, spell books spread all around the room, with a mess of broken quills and balled up parchment mounded in his rubbish bin.

_Tap, tap, tap..._

He grumbled and rubbed at his eyes as he sat up in bed, then looked at the window. It was still a bit disconcerting for him to have a window backed on the first floor, looking out over the tiny garden. He glanced at it. The window was bare.

A look at the clock told him it was 1:05 in the morning. With a groan he flopped back on his pillow, thinking about finding his strange dreams again.

_Tap, tap, tap._

He sat back up, glaring at the window now. A stick rapped at one of the panes. No, not a stick. A wand. Someone - a wizard - was outside of his bedroom window.

He rolled out of bed and crept over to the window. Just outside of it was Bucky.

He gaped at him a moment and Bucky smiled tentatively.

“What the hell?” he demanded, lifting the latch. Bucky’s smile turned into a grin. "How the hell did you get here?"

"Gave guards the slip, took the Knight Bus."

"The _what?"_

"A bus, for wizards. Steve told me about it. Gonna let me in?"

Clint wondered how Bucky knew about some form of magical transportation and he did not, but he didn’t ask as he stepped aside to let his best friend into his room. Barney was probably going to have a shit fit when he woke up in the morning to discovered an unannounced guest, but he wasn’t going to say much about it just yet.

Bucky wasted no time in climbing through the windowsill, dragging a big camouflage rucksack with him.

"Planning to stay awhile?" he asked, eying the bag.

Bucky shrugged. He looked like a bird just shown how to fly and was excited, hair growing out. Also maybe it was the month apart, but Clint realized Bucky was getting wiry, bigger. The Rolling Stones T-shirt he’d had on last summer was tight on him now.

"So... think Barney will be mad I'm here?" Bucky was looking around the room. He probably hadn’t been in a magical house before, although this one was hardly above a muggle dwelling. They hadn’t had the time or money to build up any amount of assets just yet.

“I don’t think so. Barney likes you. He’s just going to cuss a little bit in surprise and wonder why I ever gave you my address.”

“So I could find you, clearly. Why, you’re not mad are you?”

“No,” said Clint, and he smiled and hugged Bucky. It was good to see him. The end of their third year had been rough.

Bucky returned the hug and sat on the bed, making the springs groan. He kicked his feet looking around.

Clint turned and dragged some blankets out of the closet. Bucky watched him as he arranged several pillows on the ground.

"What are you doing?"

"Making a bed for me. You can have mine."

Bucky waved his hand distractedly, shoving Bruce. "I'm not taking yours."

"I'm pretty sure it's rude to make guests sleep on the floor."

"I snuck over to your house in the middle of the night. Sucks to rude!" he flopped onto the mess of bedding before Clint could protest and scooped it all up, tossing it onto the bed. “We can share just as easily as one of us can freeze on the floor,” he said, arranging an extra pillow and blanket. With that, Bucky kicked off his trainers and crawled into the bed.

"Now. Sleep. We can explain to Barney in the morning how you took pity on me and let me in out of the cold.”

Clint shook his head, too tired to argue, and climbed in after him. The bed squeaked again as both boys found their spots and rolled, staring at each other through the dim light coming in through Clint’s window. Clint held his pillow in his arm and yawned.

“So why’d you sneak out?”

“To give Steve a heart attack,” said Bucky, and he grinned. “He’s off at Thor’s place so I decided to leave his mum a note and come visit you. I’m sure she won’t mind.”

Clint laughed with him. It felt funny here, sharing a bed with their feet touching. Even Bucky seemed to be blushing a little. He scooted his toes back a bit, trying not to be too self-conscious. His feelings for Bucky were a little too complicated lately. “So what’s happened? Is Rebecca gone?”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah, a few weeks ago. She’s gone to live with our aunt in the states, going to the Salem Witches Institute.” He sighed and rubbed his cheek against the blanket. “She was supposed to start at Hogwarts this year. I was gonna show her everything.”

Clint frowned. “I hope it’s a good school.”

“Me too. She’s sad but she’s excited.”

Clint nodded and yawned. Bucky copied him.

“Just one month ‘till Hogwarts,” said Bucky, and Clint smiled sleepily at him.

“Just one month.” 


	10. Chapter 10

Bucky’s toes scraped the mud at the bottom of the pitch. There was the gonging sound of a goal somewhere above him but he hardly paid attention as he did a spin, clutching to his broomstick as he followed the Gryffindor seeker. He reached, swung his bat and struck the bludger as hard as he could, sending it careening off into open air just as the seeker grasped the practice snitch.

He could hear someone yelling his name above him and he turned to see the new quidditch captain, Thor, waving and smiling. There was cheering from the stands and Bucky turned, shooting upward into the overcast sky to see his friends waving at him.

“That was the best save I’ve seen yet,” said Thor, grinning. “Keep going, though.”

Bucky nodded. Competition was steep, a lot of sixth and seventh years had shown up to try out for practice and Bucky was just in his fourth year. They’d created two opposing teams using both backups and newcomers. Clint was on his team playing as a chaser, which was fortunate because Bucky wasn’t sure he could fire a bludger at his best friend.

He flew back into the game, ducking as Clint raced by with the quaffle, robes billowing out behind him as he made for Thor’s end of the pitch. Thor was perhaps the best keeper the team had seen in some time and so far only Clint was able to score on him consecutively.

Bucky’s big competition, a seventh year named Gregson, was flying towards Clint, following a bludger. He was on the opposing team, and Bucky gripped his broom, shooting towards them in a wide arch. He flattened himself along the handle as Gregson wound up, taking aim, and with a last burst of speed that made his broom wobble he entered the space between them.

The bludger cracked towards him and hit him in the stomach, making Bucky’s eyes sting with tears as he flipped in midair, losing grip on his broom.

He could hear Bruce yelling his name and Bucky felt like he was falling through syrup as he tumbled off the broom. _At least I’m not one hundred feet up,_ thought Bucky, staring up at Thor’s surprised and angry face. A goal rang - Clint must have scored.

He turned to see the ground and the referee with her wand out, saying something as a flash of light made Bucky’s body freeze up the last few seconds before everything went black.

++

“You _idiot.”_

It was the first thing Bucky heard as he crept back to consciousness, opening his eyes. His entire body hurt but his stomach was a special kind of hell as he groaned and opened his eyes.

“Hi,” he managed, trying to sit up. He was in the hospital wing with the entire group all around him looking worried. Clint was the only one who looked furious, though.

“You stupid git,” he said.

Bucky frowned. “What for?”

“What for? For nearly dying in a _practice_ match when we weren’t even on the team!”

“Hey, Clint,” said Steve, reaching out to put a hand on his arm.

Clint threw it off though, uninterested. “Why’d you do it?”

Bucky sat up now, glaring at him. “Because he was shooting a bludger at your back!”

“I KNOW!” said Clint, the sound exploding out of him. “I wanted him to! Because I’d dodge it, I knew it was coming! Then you got in the way and-”

“And ruined your big moment by saving your butt. Yeah, I get it, Clint.”

Clint sputtered. “That’s not even it _at all,”_ he snapped, eyes going red. “Screw you, Barnes. You don’t even get it.”

“The only one not getting it is _you,_ Barton!”

Clint turned around and ran from the group, still wearing his flying robes that were damp with rain. Bucky leaned back, chest aching. “Stupid wanker,” muttered Bucky.

Bruce sighed. “I’m going to make sure he’s okay.”

“What for? He’s a wanker, wanker’s don’t need checking up on. Let him alone.”

“Buck…” said Steve.

Bucky humphed as Bruce turned and left. After a moment of dithering Darcy hoped Bucky was okay and followed them. Tony watched Bruce’s back, arm around Pepper, and he turned back to Bucky. “That was an amazing save,” he said.

“Thanks.”

“But really… I mean…” Tony turned to look after them again. “About Clint - _ow, hey!”_ He turned a glare on Pepper. “What was _that_ for?”

Pepper stared at him, raising one eyebrow. He shook his head. “ _Girls,_ ” he muttered.

Bucky sat up further, massaging his stomach. Steve took the seat next to him, leaning on the bed.

Pepper gave Tony another look. “Let’s go, we need to let him rest.”

“Yeah, whatever. And Thor needs to give the _big news,”_ said Tony, with a grin at Thor. Still arm in arm Pepper and Tony left. Bucky watched them, frowning. It looked so wrong and so right to see them together, to see friends getting older and dating. Sure Bucky liked girls and flirted a lot, but he had no girlfriends…

He looked back at Thor, a seed of hope in his stomach. “So, what big news?”

Thor’s smile broadened. “Well, provided you still want to, you’ve won one of our spots on the Quidditch team!”

“Oh my god,” said Bucky, leaning forward, barely feeling the pain now. “Yes! YES!” he pumped the air. “Gregson?”

“He threw a bat at someone’s head. He’s not on.”

“Oh he’s going to be mad?”

Thor shrugged. “I don’t really care. Clint’s on too.”

Bucky made a face and shrugged. “The stupid git probably doesn’t even care,” said Bucky, secretly wishing Clint was there with him to celebrate the moment they’d been fantasizing together about for the last month.

Thor squeezed Steve’s shoulder, earning a blush from him, and he smiled at them both. He was still wearing rain splattered robes as well, and excused himself to go change, leaving Steve and Bucky alone.

Steve tapped his fingers, looking at Bucky. “Do you really think he’s a stupid git?”

Bucky shrugged. “He’s more mad I ruined his _big chance_ to be a show off than me hurting myself for him so yeah, he’s a git.”

Steve looked away. Bucky wondered if Steve was on Clint’s side _too_ , which hardly seemed fair at all.

“Well go easy on him.”

Bucky snorted. “Clint and I have been mates for years, just like you and I, and suddenly he thinks a bit of glory is more important than me? I don’t think so.”

“I just think that what you both meant got kind of skewed, is all,” said Steve.

Madam Pomfrey came bustling over a moment later with a potion that Bucky knew would probably take the pain and make him sleep. He took it, making a face as Steve left, and wondered what on earth Clint could possibly have meant that didn’t prove he was some kind of prat?


End file.
